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drD's essential guide to modern knowledge

Blogday aftermoon
Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Last year I forgot to mention it and now, this year, it passed by again and I've only just realised, sigh. Senility is a sad affliction, no? This here blog is now six years old. In dog years that would be middle aged, settling down with a chewy slipper having sired several scampering pups and now firmly ensconced under the G Plan coffee table of an evening with all the walkies you could ever want. In blog years I believe it may almost qualify as antique or should that be 'etique' (var: e-tique)? [and can I just point out that I've just invented that word and defined it in Urban Dictionary and I am the inventor OK? ]. I also thought up 'crustware' at the same time, which I sort of prefer. So maybe this blog is now a piece of crustware. If so that probably makes me the crustmaster; which sounds vaguely kinky. Same as it ever was...

Gerbil
After a hard fought competition which attracted no entries from anywhere. The Bignjuicy judging panel have decided to commission Marcus O'Walletfilla to construct an eighty foot high fibreglass gerbil in honour of my sixth anniversary. This colossal rodent will stride masterfully, legs akimbo, across the urban landscape of Bignjuicyville. Visible from space ( and also Molesey ) it will symbolise the rich heritage I've bequeathed to my home town and remind all who pass this way that death is only a falling fibreglass claw away.

Behold, I pee on you from a great height

Behold, I pee on you from a great height

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 9:27 PM

Monday, February 02, 2009

HM Government

Emergency Notice for visitors to the UK

WE ARE CLOSED

Do not travel to the UK
Her Majesty's Government wish to notify all intending visitors to the United Kingdom that the country is closed until further notice.

An unprecedented climatic catastrophe, ( viz the wholly unexpected descent of a snowflake ),
has rendered the Kingdom paralysed and unable to function.

All airports, ports, railway stations, bus termini, roads, tramways and footpaths are inaccessible.
Roller skates and bicycles are subject to an emergency banning order lest their users skid
and get a nasty graze.

Electricity, water, gas, internet and public radio services may be subject to sudden interruptions.
Countdown is safe as is Eastenders and Facebook profiles will continue to function.
Stephen Fry has been relocated to an undisclosed bunker so that he may twitter uninterrupted.

Her Majesty's Government understands that intending visitors to the United Kingdom may be surprised by this action given our normally tropical climate.
Snow is unheard of in these islands, we really weren't expecting this, oh no.

An emergency Clean Out Congealed Kompressed Unexpected Precipitation plan will be put into operation as soon as we find the on switch for the Very Big Heater we buried under London during the last Frost Fair of 1814.

We hope to see you in the Spring - please remember to pack your waterwings and bring a small rowing boat.

Love

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 10:45 PM

Wobbly upper lip?

Whatever happened to discretion, dignity and British reserve? Last week I was present in several different locations where people, whom I barely know, felt the need to discuss, in voices sufficiently loud enough for me to hear, with their (barely known) colleagues, acquaintances or passers by, the following topics:

How crap her husband was in bed last night.
How "I will chuck a brick through your window if you don't leave my f*****g kids alone".
"I owe about £55000 on cards and loans, my mate went backrupt and I'm heading there too".
"The doctor told me I'll need to go back for a smear".
"She's got a drink problem; she told me yesterday."
"I had my ovaries removed two years ago" - told to me after a two minute - I've only just met you / how's it going? / smalltalk conversation-in-passing.

I was wondering if "tell me your innermost secrets" had been tattooed on my forehead by the bignjuicy tattoo sleepelves but I checked in the mirror earlier and it's just wrinkles (although not many unless I smile, which is sadly ironic doncha think?). My conclusion is that we are becoming less British. More ready to disclose all to all and sundry. Refreshingly open? Modern? Uninhibited? I dunno. I've always been wary of people who tell you their life story after first meeting. It was never like this before the Queen of Hearts. I blame Martin Bashir.

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 1:05 AM